Plague

I don’t think I’ve had strep throat since I was 21. So I figured this week was as good a time as any to get it.

It really wasn’t as much fun as you would think. How in the world did I still go out partying every night with strep throat back then? (You’re welcome, random strangers of the Pensacola club scene!) At 33, I can’t even walk to the bathroom without keeling over and dying.

It started with Merrick, then me, and now Cheyenne. Mia is shockingly healthy and chipper–despite a threatened setback a few days ago when she came home ultra-emotional and over-tired (usually a sure-fire clue-in to an oncoming sickness from Satan).

I baked some delicious cheesy enchiladas the other night–one of my mom’s old recipes–and my entire family gobbled them down with enthusiasm, and then they all raised up and called me blessed. Cheyenne theorized that my pregnancy is causing my mothering instincts to kick in super hardcore, and that’s the only reason why I’ve been cooking like a total champion over the last couple months.

I don’t know why she has to scientifically rationalize my skillz. It could be that I’ve turned into quite the amazing chef for no reason except that it’s just my turn to stand (next to the oven) in the light.

Today: banana bread.

Well, maybe tomorrow. I have to pace myself. Plus I’m also still contagious, soooo….

My dogs are driving me off the cliffs of insanity. There comes a point in every dog/owner relationship (usually around the 7th year, during the last stages of a long cold winter) that the constant whining and pacing and the forever in-and-out, out-and-in, and the staring and the begging and the hovering and the skulking…um, it starts to get a little old. And the dog’s behavior is pretty annoying too. And you might think that a one-way trip to Dallas is just what the doctor ordered for your pet. And then you feel bad because you know the kids probably wouldn’t approve and neither would your husband, although some days he might be tempted to drop you off 3 hours away.

The end of February is rough on everybody y’all.

 

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About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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